Defining Sparks
by RedMageXII
Summary: A series of Ami/Makoto one-shots.
1. Imbibery

Hi everyone. Welcome to Defining Sparks, the companion one-shot collection to Defining Love. All these stories are about the Ami/Makoto pairing and originated from single word prompts (the prompt word being the title of the chapter). Depending on how tired I was when I started writing, some of the stories will be connected really well to their prompt word and some may be a bit more off the wall, but hopefully you'll enjoy them regardless. Any feedback is welcome, and feel free to suggest prompt words to me. I am always up to a challenge!

Imbibery

_The act of drinking to excess._

Her whole life, Ami hadn't really done anything rebellious at all. Tonight, however, things were different. Her final exams had ended, university loomed and a small group of people also bound for medical school had taken her out to celebrate.

Celebrate. Ami was perfectly aware of this mission statement. Yet she wasn't sure she was celebrating.

She was _drinking_, however, and presently she sighed into her fifth beverage of the night. She wasn't legal to drink but around this time of year the occasional bar tender, reminiscent about his own school days, would look the other way. This was that sort of place. Off the beaten track somewhere; a small, smoky establishment in a side street Ami would have avoided on any other day.

At the time Ami hadn't known why she'd agreed to this, so the notion that she could figure it out now, as her head grew heavier and her vision blurred at the edges, seemed pretty laughable to her. Yet, surprisingly enough, the alcohol had brought with it a pretty sound explanation.

With no youma to kill and no exams to take Ami was fresh out of excuses. That left her with a difficult truth – the one she had been trying her hardest to push aside.

She loved Makoto.

She thought the words again, tried not to let them smart too much. She had wanted her the moment she'd laid eyes on her, in all probability, though she had tried her best to conceal it even from herself.

When she had finally connected the dots and realised it was a crush she had promised herself it would go no further. By ignoring it, however, she hadn't dealt with it, hadn't planned the way she so thoroughly did for everything else. Instead of creating distance she had spent years of her life steadily getting closer to Makoto. One-to-one tutoring away from the other girls; meals together when her mother wasn't home. Hanging back after basketball or judo club to invite her for ice cream. Oh yes, Ami had done very little damage control at all in the lead up to this moment.

And now she was in love. Inebriated as she was, she chuckled wryly at herself.

She was such a fool.

A large hand touched her knee. Startled, she found herself looking into the face of one of her classmates. It was Kyosuke Fukuda, a well-built boy with a handsome face whom she distinctly recalled wanted to be a chiropodist. She remembered because she remembered thinking, how many eighteen-year-olds want _specifically_ to become a foot doctor?

He leant his face close to her ear. "I said, do you want to dance?"

In her current mood, Ami felt strikingly devil-may-care about the idea of dancing with Kyosuke. So she took the hand he offered, trying not to be bothered by its placement on her leg previously, and let him help her to her feet. She swayed a little and he placed his palm against the small of her back to steady her.

"Easy does it, Mizuno-san!" he laughed gently.

He steered her towards the dance floor, made a signal in the direction of the DJ, and the music slowed to a ballad. Kyosuke put his other arm around her and on reflex she placed one hand on his bulky shoulder, allowing the other to finger the collar of his school shirt.

Aeons and milliseconds seemed to pass in Ami's haze. Before she knew it the song was entering its second chorus. He leant in closer to her, ducking his head to the shell of her ear once more. "You know, I've wanted to do this since we started high school."

"You have?"

"Absolutely."

She smiled at that, holding him tighter. Closing her eyes, she rested her cheek against his shoulder.

"I'm flattered you would say that."

His deep laugh rumbled against her shoulder. "No need to be. I'm a scientist; I only speak in hard facts."

"Mm." She pressed against him, his heady aftershave lulling her into safety. She allowed the alcohol to soothe her and tried to remove Makoto from her mind.

The next thing she knew, her forehead was against a pane of glass. The rumble of Kyosuke's voice had been replaced by the hum of a car engine and Ami opened her eyes to see the landscape of Tokyo nightlife whizzing past her. She'd have panicked had she not known precisely whose car this was. As it was, she just lolled her head to the other side to regard the driver.

"Mako-chan. What am I doing here?"

Makoto glowed under the city lights. Well-toned arms flexed, turning the steering wheel into a tight bend. Her voice was neutral. "I heard you were still out. I came to get you."

Ami frowned. That was a strange way to put it. Surely it would have made more sense for Makoto to come out and join her, or come out and check she was alright? The way Makoto said it anyone would think she had stormed into that bar with the sole purpose of retrieving her.

More than that: Ami's eyes locked on a familiar bus stop and she realised where she was. Why was Makoto bringing her back to her own apartment, rather than taking her home? She was only tipsy, and she wouldn't have to answer to anyone regardless now her mother was working nights. Staying at Makoto's was beyond a pointless exercise.

It was one of these oddities in Makoto's behaviour which made her think, very occasionally, that Makoto might feel the same way about her. Yet this strange little culture that existed between them, that Ami had stupidly helped form, was impossible to untangle, and Ami had all but convinced herself that her mind was playing tricks on her.

Makoto had crushes on boys, didn't she? And, objectively speaking, Makoto seemed no friendlier towards her than the others. She'd watched her talk quietly with Rei, or blush under Minako's pretend flirting, or throw herself in front of Usagi to protect her. Makoto chased after Haruka, shuffled her feet around Setsuna and fell spellbound under Michiru's musical talents. Her closeness to Ami could easily have been imagined; something conjured by her overactive imagination to keep itself occupied.

But tonight... What did tonight mean? Ami's brow creased in confusion, trying to force her fuddled brain into its usual high gears, but all she encountered was resistance. She couldn't figure out any of the things she wanted to know. She couldn't pinpoint Makoto's motivations, couldn't work out whether to avoid Makoto or just carry on as she always had.

It was only then she realised the engine had stopped and that Makoto was staring at her. "That expression is very cute, Ami-chan, but don't think it's going to get you off the hook," she chided softly. "You scared me tonight."

They were in a parking bay beside Makoto's apartment complex. Penetrating eyes left her as Makoto exited the driver's side. Taking her cue to follow, Ami squeezed the door handle and staggered out. She shut the car door only to be caught by strong arms.

"Nope," Makoto said firmly, and before Ami could comprehend what was happening an arm had been hooked under her knees and she was being lifted from the ground. She felt the blood rush to her cheeks and cursed herself for it. Her body's reaction was truly ridiculous. She hadn't been abashed at all by Kyosuke's closeness, yet being cradled by Makoto elicited fire engine red with no effort at all. She cleared her throat in an attempt to regain her sensibilities, annoyance pinching at her good nature.

_Nope. _That's what she had said. Abrupt and uncompromising. From Kyosuke she had extracted kind words and compliments, but Makoto had practically inferred she was a child. As if Ami were unreasonable or immature, when in fact all she had done was rationally try to escape her feelings.

That was all Ami had wanted – a few precious hours of peace from this gruelling excuse for love – but she couldn't even have _that_. Makoto, cause of her chaos, was also an uncanny constant in her life; this sentient force of good karma which managed to find her in a backstreet bar even Ami couldn't have named.

She wanted to be angered by that. To demand of Makoto why she wouldn't just leave her alone, soft green eyes and all. But Makoto's shoulder was warm and her voice was comforting and her arms were safe. And the concern in those eyes made it so very hard to be furious with her.

Up three flights of stairs and through two sets of fire doors and Ami was placed back on her feet. Makoto dug her keys from her jeans. The door immediately opened onto the scent of recently baked bread.

"You were baking?" Ami asked, following her inside. Her ire had dissipated. In here she was surrounded by Makoto and the effect was always slightly overwhelming.

Makoto didn't answer her question. She presented her with some pyjamas. "Bed."

Ami frowned. She hadn't even noticed Makoto fetch them. She reached out both hands to take them from her with a murmured thank you. In the back of her mind, she vaguely noted that Makoto's knuckles were grazed.

Makoto nodded, looking away awkwardly. "Would you like to change in the bathroom?"

The thunder senshi was flustered. Ami's voice lilted in amusement. "I can manage here. Turn around."

Makoto looked at her oddly for a moment but did as requested. Ami began to strip, a buzz running through her she wasn't one hundred percent sure was the alcohol. She noted the pair of grey boxer briefs and wanted to laugh aloud at the whole absurd situation. Sober she knew it would be timely for her to pass out from embarrassment at the even the notion of wearing Makoto's underwear. In this state, however, she was an outsider looking in; all she could do was drop them to the floor and step into them, pulling them to her hips.

She tugged Makoto's nightshirt over her head; it was too large for her, of course. It hung loose on her collarbone, and when Makoto turned it was obvious she thought so too. Eyes darted to a bare shoulder and dipped to uncovered swimmers' legs and Ami couldn't help but feel slightly pleased with the situation.

Apparently determined to micromanage her tonight, Makoto took hold of her shoulders and escorted her to the bed at the opposite end of the apartment. Once she had Ami seated she went about getting changed herself. A sober Ami whispered not to look but this Ami found herself ignoring her. She watched Makoto unbutton her pink blouse and toss it into the wash basket. Taking a seat on the arm of the couch, Makoto tugged off her jeans and sent them to the same fate. Ami's eyes traced the contours of Makoto's chest, the long stretch of toned stomach.

It was at this point Makoto glanced at her and did a double-take at what she was doing. A light blush covered her nose. Ami knew she had been caught. She fixed her eyes on her own feet instead, having the good sense to blush herself, and wondered how much hope had been naked in her eyes.

"Mako-chan." Her own voice sounded loud to her. She tried to meet Makoto's gaze, but Makoto looked pointedly at anything but her. "Why did you come to get me?"

"Why did you go?" Makoto shot back. A flash of hurt in those eyes, and Ami was suddenly more focused. She sat up straighter.

"Did something bad happen?" she asked bluntly.

Makoto didn't say anything. She disappeared into the bathroom with some clothes, apparently now all too aware of Ami's attention. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Your knuckles are grazed."

After a few moments' silence Makoto came back in donning pyjama shorts and a vest top. She offered coolly, "I'll tell you my half if you tell me yours."

Tell her best friend and strongest enemy to date she had been resisting her? Not a chance. Ami didn't respond.

Makoto sighed. "Fine."

Ami frowned but didn't argue. If not knowing was the only way to keep her secret she supposed it was a curiosity she could tolerate. She threw the covers back and began to slide beneath them. Then Makoto's body collided with hers. Strong arms wrapping tightly around her, and for a moment Ami couldn't breathe, giddy with just the feel of her. Makoto's lips whispered against her neck.

"Don't do that again."

Stunned and more than a little worried, Ami laid her head on Makoto's shoulder. "I won't."

"Please."

"I won't."

For a while they stayed that way, Makoto's scent all but lulling Ami into slumber. Almost out for the count, she felt Makoto climb into bed beside her, pulling the duvet around them both like a shield.

When Ami awoke alone the next morning, it was with the hazy recollection of having been held.


	2. Duress

Thanks for reading and reviewing! Here's another instalment. Did I mention I don't own Sailor Moon?

* * *

Duress

_An action to coerce someone into doing something against their will or better judgement. _

Makoto scrubbed the last of the dirt from her fingernails and dried off her hands. Her biology teacher had asked her to stay late and help plant some new bulbs in the greenhouse. It had taken a little longer than she had expected but Makoto had been content to spend some alone time in her favourite part of the school. Besides, it was a great excuse to walk Ami home from practice.

Slinging her satchel over her shoulder, Makoto glanced up at the clock. Almost five. Time to get moving.

Lately Ami had been spending several evenings a week at the school swimming pool. Someone at her cram classes had said her university application would look better with more extracurricular activities on it, so naturally Ami had signed up for the swimming club and dedicated any free time left in her schedule to training.

Makoto wanted to punch the idiot who had suggested it. Overachievement was a classic Ami response. Now the girls barely saw her outside of classes and it frustrated Makoto more than anyone else. She didn't like to think Ami was pushing herself too hard when universities would be begging to have her anyway. However, what made Makoto particularly uneasy was that the swimming club president was Noriko-sempai.

Noriko-sempai was in the school's sports star. Minako and Makoto were both held in high regard in their respective clubs but Noriko was in a whole other league. She wasn't just a natural athlete. She was insanely focused, trained constantly and had a hand in most sports in the school. She brought home a lot of trophies but only because she worked her underclassmen extremely hard. Makoto herself had come back from plenty of basketball practices ready to collapse thanks to Noriko, and Ami had enough on her plate without adding physical exhaustion to the mix.

Makoto's eyes flitted over the faces of dressed but damp-haired swimmers as she passed them in the corridor. No Ami. She wondered if she hadn't missed her. She rounded the final corner to the changing rooms and, with the slightest hesitation, eased open the door. It was silly, really. Makoto had changed with tons of girls, seen far more of some teammates than she had ever intended, yet the idea of catching Ami undressed made her stomach flip in a way she didn't care to deconstruct.

"Ami?" she called out. No reply. She walked fully into the room and let the door swing shut behind her. Her gaze dropped to the bench; Ami's bag sat at the far corner. Beside it a damp swimsuit lay atop a neatly folded white towel.

There was a whimper and Makoto's ears pricked. It had come from the direction of the showers. As she drew closer, she heard something that sank her insides.

"Come on, Ami, don't be like that. You'll enjoy it."

The sound of struggling. On leaden legs, Makoto came around the tiled wall partition to see Noriko-sempai's hand slip beneath Ami's skirt. She had Ami pressed against the wall with her arms pinned above her head, lips buried into the nape of Ami's neck.

Makoto watched Ami's eyes, ashamed but not alarmed, and knew without a doubt that this wasn't the first time.

"Please," begged Ami. "Don't, Noriko-sempai."

Rage. Makoto physically shook with it. The air seemed to drain from the universe until there were the only two people in the world: someone wonderful and the person holding her down. Ami arched reluctantly into Noriko's ministrations and it was all Makoto could stand. Trapped in tunnel vision, she stepped fully into view and just about registered the horror on Ami's face as her fist struck Noriko's cheek.

"Mako-chan!" Ami's hands flew to her mouth.

The pain in her knuckles snapped her to her senses. The spell was broken. Noriko stumbled backwards, cupping her jaw.

Silence fell. Blood pumped. Words rushed up, and Makoto said them in a voice so low it was barely her own. "_Never_ touch her again."

Noriko smirked. Dropped her hand to her side.

"I admire your loyalty, but I'm not sure what my crime is. After all, she started it."

Makoto lunged forward and grabbed Noriko by the shirt collar. "What did you say?"

Noriko was unperturbed. She shrugged coolly. "She couldn't have you."

Makoto's glower faltered. This was a lie. It had to be, but when she sought out Ami's eyes she could see that it wasn't. Ami was pale, shrunk back and vulnerable. Staring through Makoto she looked very much like her world had just collapsed. She hugged herself tightly as if trying squeeze her way out of existence.

Shock paralysed Makoto. Her grip weakened and Noriko easily freed herself, bumping Makoto's shoulder as she passed. Before she vanished from sight, she paused. She tilted her head towards them. "Come back when you're ready for another game, Ami-chan. If you want, you can call out her name again."

Footsteps and the door swinging shut and they were alone. A tear rolled down Ami's cheek. She smiled hollowly, her voice a whisper. "I should have anticipated that."

Makoto's head reeled. Ami wanted _that_ from her? How could she? Three years passed through Makoto's mind. All this time and she couldn't pinpoint it. Had Ami been too careful or had Makoto been too stupid to work it out?

The silence gaped until Ami hit breaking point. She made to flee but Makoto came to her senses enough to grab hold of her, pulling her into a crushing embrace. At first Ami stiffened and struggled, but Makoto's grasp wouldn't yield. She held her, listening to her sob with shame.

Her heart ached and, somewhere inside, Makoto knew why. But she didn't say it; wasn't ready to say something like that.

Instead she pulled back and lovingly straightened Ami's collar, let her fingers run from her shoulders to her arms. Then she smoothed down her skirt, ignoring that something inside, and pressed her forehead to Ami's. She closed her eyes.

* * *

The walk home was tense but companionable. At Ami's door they finally stopped. Makoto's eyes were fixed on her shoes. She felt Ami fidget, the tension which had chased them home catching up and settling over them.

"What are you thinking?" Ami asked quietly. Bracingly. Makoto took a deep breath.

"I'm thinking, 'why did I only punch her once?'" She shook her head, chuckling.

Ami laughed in spite of herself. "I certainly have terrible taste in sempai," she said, a self-conscious smile gracing her features.

"We both do." Makoto admitted. She rubbed the back of her neck. "In fact, I… I think both of us should date someone our own age. "

Ami's looked up at her. "You do?"

Makoto met her gaze. She blushed lightly. "I do."


End file.
